


Recreating a Memory

by CLeighWrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Feeding, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Sensory Deprivation, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:24:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15037652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLeighWrites/pseuds/CLeighWrites
Summary: Sam’s Valentine’s gift to you is a little unconventional; using your favorite childhood food (intentionally left vague, think of it as you wish!), he attempts to recreate one of your not so favorite memories.





	Recreating a Memory

**Author's Note:**

> For @lunarsaturn88’s Valentines Day Supernatural 2018 Challenge. My promt was “Try Some”

The Bunker

With a smile on your face you stretched your arms and legs before you opened your eyes and rolled over to an empty bed. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, pulled Sam’s pillow up to your face, and breathed deeply. No matter how many nights you’ve slept in his bed, and “borrowed” his clothes, you would never get enough of his smell. It was like sandalwood and old cotton and parchment.

Frowning, you got up, padded over to the chair, and pulled on your discarded sweatpants. Where was he? On the way out of his room you slipped your shoes on and grabbed one of Sam’s flannels which you shrugged on over the tank top you had slept in. You went down the hall and checked the showers, not there; the library and war room, empty. The smell of coffee led you down the corridor to the kitchen where you were rewarded with a very flustered looking Sam, as well as a freshly brewed pot of coffee.

“No, no, no, no,” Sam didn’t even notice that you had come into the room.

“Whacha doin’?” He jumped and spun to face you, his eyes wide. Chuckling to yourself you crossed the room and prepared yourself a cup of coffee.

“Me? Nothin’. What are you doin’?” He had turned to face you and braced his arms on the counter like he was trying to block your view.

Lifting your coffee cup you responded, “Coffee…” you leaned to the side to peak around him and he leaned with you.

“Right, coffee. Good morning beautiful,” he held his arms out, took one long stride toward you, and wrapped you and your coffee cup into his arms.

You responded with a muffled morning of your own as you tried to see what he was hiding on the counter, but he wasn’t budging. You ran your free hand around his back and dug your fingers into him, tilting your chin up to look at him. He looked down at you before leaning in for a kiss. It was a chaste, but passionate one; it was also one you were hoping would be enough of a distraction for you to turn him.

“What are you trying to do?” He was grinning against your lips.

“I don’t know, what are you trying to do?” You nibbled at his bottom lip and smiled up at him.

He let go of a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair and shifted out of the way so you could see what he had been blocking. You stifled a laugh when you saw the mess of bowls and utensils and ingredients spread out all over.

“Oh,” from what you were looking at, you couldn’t really tell what it was he was trying to make, but you had an idea, “are you making what I think you’re making?”

He had his chin tucked down and his lips twitched, not quite into a smile when you looked up to his face, “You said that your mom used to make it and that you wish you could have it again, so I figured…today, I thought I’d make it for you.”

“Today?” You tried to think of what day it was, let alone why it would be significant. You pressed your lips together and shook your head when you couldn’t come up with anything.

“Valentine’s Day,” his cheeks flushed and he did grin then and your heart contracted. Those dimples were probably your…third favorite part of Sam, they were also another part of him people didn’t always get to see; at least not attached to that smile. 

Sam was trying to surprise you with your favorite childhood food for Valentine’s Day. It was almost too much to wrap your head around. You have reduced the great Sam Winchester to a rom-com lead. Dean would laugh his ass off. Speaking of…

“Where’s Dean?”

“Oh, he’s hunting, he won’t be back till tomorrow,” he had a knowing sort of lilt to his voice.

“That kind of hunt then, is it?” You laughed, Dean always joked that today was like Christmas for him. You always thought it was sort of sad, like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Yeah, so…I was going to make this for you and figured we could just spend the day in bed? Then we could do take out and a movie?”

“I like the staying in bed part,” you winked at him before looking back at his mess, “based on what I heard when I came in, I’m not sure I wanna know what happened with this though,” you motioned to the counter and laughed a little, hoping to ease the blow.

“Oh, no, that turned out fine. I was um…talking about something else when you walked in.”

“Ah…gotcha. I suppose I could trust you,” you tilted your head and grinned at him before sipping your coffee and walking over to sit at the table.

Sam walked up behind you and started to rub your shoulders. His graceful strong fingers expertly digging in and circling your skin and soothing your sore muscles. You groaned and let your head hang; he took advantage of that and worked at the back of your neck, up to the top of your spine. He moved some of your loose hair to the side and planted a kiss at the base of your neck as he moved his hands down your shoulders.

“Do you trust me?” His breath hot at you ear and fingers rubbing nervous patterns on your arms.

The intensity of his question took you by surprise, but you leaned back into him and tilted your head to look at him when you answered, “With my life, Sam.”

He winked at you then and dashed out of the kitchen without another word. He’s such a dork sometimes. You just smiled and drank your coffee.

Just a few moments later you sensed his return, but he didn’t say anything, and you didn’t turn to look at him. You felt him come up close behind you and then it went dark. You jumped a little before bringing your hands up to your face to feel the cool silk that he was in the process of tying around your head. You grinned and hummed as a new warmth, not from the coffee, crept into you.

“What’s all this?” It’s not like the two of you hadn’t played games before, but those were usually saved for the cover of darkness and the confines of either his or your bedroom.

“I read this article once,” of course he had, “well, a couple of articles really. One said that your sense of taste could be magnified when you deprive the sense of sight.”

“One sense overcompensating for the loss of another. It happens all the time, blind people hear better, deaf people can feel more subtle vibrations…”

“Yes, but that’s not what I’m trying to do,” you could hear him grinning and shaking his head at you being a smart ass. “There is also a study that proves that things like smell and taste can trigger very strong memories and that your brain will forever link those senses to those people and places.”

His voice had gotten a little further away from you as he spoke, he would be over by the stove now; but you were confused again. What would any of that have to do with your mom’s cooking?

“I remember, you told me one time, that your mom had made this for a cookout that you had brought your first real boyfriend to,” uh-oh, he opened the oven and the smell wafted over you, bringing you right back to that time, “you also said that that night he drove you out to a clearing and you gave him something you ended up regretting.”

He was walking back toward you now, the aroma of your mom’s cooking coming closer with him.

“I did. Regret it,” you had been young, but older than your friends had been, when you had lost your virginity. It hadn’t been bad at the time, but he ended up being a total dick about it later. That was when you learned first hand that guys were typically only after one thing.

“Well, I’m going to get it back for you,” he set what he had been carrying down in front of you.

You laughed at that, “Umm, Sam…I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

He sat next to you and grabbed your hand, tracing your fingers with his before flipping it over to run lines down your palm. Not being able to see made every touch flare through your entire body. You stiffened when you felt him lean forward, but you never felt his lips or breath on you. You heard something slide across the table, the scrape of metal on wood. You flinched when you felt his hand on your lower back, and relaxed as he started to rub little patterns with his lithe fingers.

He chuckled and you felt his breath near your ear. You smiled to yourself and turned your face to his, reaching up with your hand to cup his face. He leaned into the touch and allowed you to pull him to you for a kiss. His hand tightened on your back and you pressed closer into the kiss. Not being able to see him, only feeling how he feels on you, made everything feel so much more. You licked at his lips and he opened up his mouth to yours. You reached in and tasted him, tasted the coffee he had that morning and something sweet that was still on his lips, and everything that was inherently Sam.

You felt him smile right before he pulled away, “Here,” you heard him cut something and stab at it with a fork. The hand he had on your back came up to your face and his thumb rubbed the corner of your mouth, “open up.”

You didn’t even hesitate before dropping your jaw and tucking your tongue behind your bottom teeth. Only a moment later he had the fork positioned at your lower lip, waiting for you to take it into your mouth. Grinning you dommed what was in front of you and closed your lips around the fork. You licked it clean as you pulled your face away and rolled what was in your mouth around, tasting it as you chewed it. The flavors exploded in your mouth, bringing back all the memories of every other time you’d eaten it; the happiness, the warmth, the love. Every flavor accentuated by your lack of sight, each and every part of it punctuated in a different way.

At the same time you swallowed his lips were on your neck, gently pressing into your pulse. When he pulled himself away from you you moved to follow him, but his hand on your chin stopped you. He repeated his earlier movement, rubbing the corner of your mouth before you felt the warmth of another bite tease at your lips. You gratefully opened and accepted bite after bite as he fed you, peppering your neck with kisses in between mouthfuls.

“You like it?” He was nuzzling at your ear as he whispered the question.

“Yes,” your reply as breathy and lust filled as you felt, conveying the same multi-meaning as his question. 

“Is it good?” He started to kiss down your neck.

“Yes, so good,” your breath catching.

“So,” he was playing a game, and you went along willingly, “I was thinking, maybe after we eat we could, umm…” he bit at your earlobe, “fuck.”

You moaned, turned to face him, and reached for the blindfold before he took both of your hands in his, twinning your fingers together, “Yeah, OK. You know I’ve never really done that before, but I…mmmm…I think it’s about time.”

“Really?” His voice all teenage anticipation, an eagerness that he probably hasn’t actually felt in years. 

You licked your lips and spread them into a thin smile, “Yeah.” Biting your bottom lip you nodded.

He picked you up and held you bridal style, “Oh, hold on!” Bringing the blind fold up over one of your eyes you reached down and he held you so you could reach the dish to bring with you. You pulled the cover back over your eye as he carried you out of the kitchen and down the hall, presumably back to his room. The arm you weren’t holding the baking dish with reflexively held tighter as he leaned down to put you on a bed. He took the dish out of your hands and you heard him set it down a little ways away. It smelled like his room, all manly musk and old cotton.

You ran your hands on the bed, feeling the blanket. You’d never paid attention to what it felt like before. It was corse but soft at the same time, and it absorbed body heat quickly, already warm where you had been resting on it. You got a chill as you heard a zipper being undone, and the warmth that had been kindled earlier started to pool as you heard his jeans hit the floor. You pulled yourself farther up on the bed and leaned back on your arms, leaving your legs outstretched and your ankles crossed.

You felt the bed dip at your feet then the coolness of the air as your shoes were removed, thumping lightly across the room a moment later. His fingers moved lightly on the outside of your sweats as his hands moved up your body, careful not to touch you anywhere else. He teased your exposed flesh at the top of your pants and ran his fingers under your tank top and splayed his hand over your abdomen, flexing his fingers causing your flesh to crawl in the most fantastic way.

As your legs instinctually opened at his touches you shrugged your shoulders out of his flannel, leaving it underneath you, and leaned back to lie flat on your back your hands stretched out over your head. The tips of his fingers brushed just under the shelf bra that was built in to your tank and barely grazed the swell of your breast. Your breathing quickened and you heard him exhale.

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that?” He removed his hand and you groaned at the loss of his touch.

Straining your ears you tried to make out what he was doing, where he was in the space, but you could hardly hear anything outside of the blood rushing in your ears and your own breathing. You made to remove the blindfold when suddenly his hand was on yours, “Uh-uh, none of that now. I’m recreating something here and I can’t have you messing that up.”

“Oh, right,” you pursed your lips and nodded your head, “and how exactly is that going to work again?”

“Smells and sound associated with that event…I’m taking them back and making them over again. From now on, when you smell this food,” he placed the fork back at your mouth and guided it into your mouth when you lifted your head, “and when you hear the breeze and the crickets,” he leaned back away from you and you heard a click, then the sounds of nature, “instead of remember that jackass you lost it to, you’ll remember me, and this time.”

His hand came to the side of your face, his long fingers reaching to the back of your neck and head and he lifted you off the bed and into his awaiting mouth, “Mmmm, you taste good.”

“Yeah?” You tried to reach out to him so you could feel his solid muscles over you, but he was gone again. “Sam?” You didn’t care if you sounded whinny.

“I’m here, I just love looking at you like this,” he was rounding the foot of the bed, you felt a dip at your feet, his knees on either side of you. His fingers were back at the hem of your pants and in one swift movement you bucked your hips at the same time he yanked your sweats all the way off and into the floor. “You’re all flushed and breathy, and it’s all for me,” he kissed his way up your right leg as his fingers traced their way up your left. When he got to your hips he played with the band of your underwear with his fingers and nuzzled at your mound with his nose, “And wet for me too I see,” he dipped his fingers under the middle part of your underwear then and played at your soaked folds.

You bit your lip and could taste the baked goods still there, the crickets singing softly as you shoved your head into the mattress. His deft hands had your ass held off the bed and your underwear off before you could register what was coming next. Without warning his tongue was flat on your clit as he shoved a finger inside you. You spread your legs wide, offering him more room to work.

If there was one word you could use to describe Sam Winchester it would be ‘proficient.’ He didn’t just study something until he knew it inside and out, he worshipped it. With his lips and tongue and teeth ravaging your aching bud and sex, he was, without doubt, your most devout partner. Nobody knew your body like he did; exactly how much pressure to use when, or when to use his teeth, and when to fuck you with his tongue. He was a master.

Just when you started to clench around his fingers he pulled away from you. You blindly reached out for him, unable to speak from trying to catch your breath. A shock went through you as his mouth found your right nipple and his fingers your left. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass as you writhed beneath him. He moved his mouth up your neck, sucking and nipping his way up from your breast.

When he spoke his voice was unsure, still playing his game, “I’m gonna make this so good for you. It’ll be your perfect first time. Are you ready?”

A breathy moan in the affirmative is all you could muster, but it was enough for him. He sucked your earlobe into his mouth as he lined himself up and drove home slowly, allowing you to stretch around him.

Not being able to see him made this feeling all the more new, you could feel every curve and every twitch he had to offer you, and you squeezed him tight.

“Ooh, so tight for me y/n,” his breath was hot in your ear and his voice cracked as he spoke.

You moved together as he rode you closer and closer to your climax. All the while he was whispering praises and nipping at your neck. You could only imagine what he looked like right now, was he sweating, was his hair hanging in his face, what color were his eyes, was there even any color left rimming his pupils?

Your legs high around his waist and your nails down his back, you hung on as he thrust into you over and over. He knew exactly how to swing his hips and grind into you to hit that bundle of nerves inside you and rub your clit while he was seated in you.

Even in the pitch black behind your blindfold you started to see stars. You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, feeling your coil wound so tight in your gut, you knew you were close.

His thrusting got erratic as your walls closed in around him, milking him for all he was worth. You held him close as you both shuddered and jerked through your orgasms. You let out a shaky laugh as you lifted your eye covering, blinking your eyes even in the dim lamp light. You were both still trying to catch your breath and his head was rested in the crook of your neck. He kissed your shoulder before rolling onto his side, pulling out of you. He looked up into your eyes and you couldn’t help but return the grin he had splayed across his face.

“You have no idea how incredibly beautiful you are,” he reached out and moved your sweat-stuck hair from your face and let his hand rest on the side of your face when he tucked it behind your ear. “So, I hope my theory was right. Now,” he rolled over enough to reach and grab the baking dish and set it between you, forking out another bite for you, “whenever you smell or taste this, you won’t think of that dick when you were 17.”

You grinned at him before taking his offered bite, “What dick when I was 17?” You let the taste linger in your mouth a while and closed your eyes, memorizing the new smell of this treat mixed with Sam’s pheromones. This you would definitely have stored in your memory forever.

“Was it good?”

Knowing his question had several different meanings you answered the only way you could. You bit your lip and smiled brightly at him before you took the blindfold and put it over his head, having to loosen the knot a little for it to fit. You grabbed the fork and scooped up a bite before replacing the dish in the nightstand and rolling yourself on top of him.

With his hands on your hips, you brushed the fork against his lips, “Try some.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy, let me know what you think!


End file.
